


It Was a Good Idea

by Catheryne (bettythetl)



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-19
Updated: 2006-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettythetl/pseuds/Catheryne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel leaves Spike home alone, and Spike tries to be domestic. It doesn't work…</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was a Good Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenshih_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jenshih_blue).



Oh, no. He was in so much trouble. And he knew it, too. Before Angel had left that night to fight something or another, the ponce had told his Childe to finally do the laundry and clean up their room. Yeah, like that was _ever_ going to happen. Well, actually, it had started to. But then, well, Spike had never done the laundry before so…he just dumped all of the clothes (Nearly three loads worth) in at one time and just left it that way to pursue other ventures.

So, Spike watched TV, played video games on the consoles that Angel just _couldn’t_ tell him no about when he wanted them and just generally did everything but what he was supposed to. Until he heard the bang. The very loud, house shaking bang. The blond vampire froze. “Oh. Shit,” he cried, eyes wide as he rocketed out of the room and down to the source of the noise. The washing machine had blown its top. Literally. The clothes were strewn wet and soapy everywhere while the lid of the washing machine was currently swinging back and forth from where it was embedded in the wall just behind him.

Spike surveyed the wreckage in a daze. He was so. Fucking. Dust. The blond gave a rather unmasculine squeak of fright as he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. His blue eyes wide, Spike turned around to look up into the shuttered off face of his Sire. That’s when he wondered if he should’ve put a lot less clothes in the washer. Funny the things you think of when your life flashes before your eyes and you’re just about to die. Looking down at the blond trying not to quiver under his hand, Angel said tonelessly, “How did this happen, Childe?”

Yeah. He was gonna die. Again. Angel sounded just like Angelus and so Spike said the first thing that came to mind. “It _was_ a good idea, Daddy…”

Big mistake. Before he could register it, Spike was across the room, lip bleeding and head pounding from the blow it had received from the back of Angel‘s hand. Which always confused him. How could his head pound if he had no pulse to back up the pounding? But that wasn’t the main issue at this point. What was the issue was the now very pissed off Angel stalking towards him looking very much like Angelus. Spike crouched where he had landed, shaking and wide-eyed. “Yes, it _was_ a good idea to try and do the laundry. It was a _bad_ idea, though, to blow up the washer, baby. You should have asked me how to do it. You know that, right?” Angel spoke as if to a small child and Spike just nodded, not willing to point out that he couldn’t at the time especially not with Angel running off like he had. “And you also know what that means, right? Because you didn’t do what you were supposed to?” Angel questioned in the same tone as before.

Spike just nodded silently, once again not trusting himself to say anything. Angel knew that he was too scared of what exact punishment he was going to get this time to speak and that he hadn’t exactly given him time to _actually ask_ when he left, so it wasn’t going to be too bad this time. Crooking his finger at Spike, he beckoned him over wordlessly. Spike scrambled to do what he’d been bidden and stood in front of where Angel had sat down on one of the benches used for folding laundry downstairs. “Daddy?” Spike asked, keeping this up and hoping that he’d get Angel aroused enough that he’d be let off lightly.

Angel smirked, knowing what his Childe was trying to do, as they’d played this game before. Underneath the act, though, Angel knew Spike actually enjoyed this. Always got off on being dominated, his boy did. His smirk growing, Angel ordered, “Strip.”

Spike stopped fidgeting and looked wide eyed at Angel. Maybe he wasn’t getting off lightly this time. His shoulders slumped. Course he wasn’t. He blew up the bleedin’ 750-and-some-change dollar washer and he damn well deserved whatever he got. Peeling his t-shirt off over his head, Spike dropped it to the floor and then undid his jeans one handed. Walking back over to his Sire, he was standing for a total and five seconds before the back of his neck was grabbed firmly and he was laying on his stomach over Angel’s lap. He wouldn’t. The only other time that Angel had spanked his Childe was when he’d ruined his favorite suits and even then he hadn’t been in this position. He’d been bent over the bed. Granted that was for two reasons, but not the point.

So, Spike did the only natural thing. He squirmed. He thrashed about on Angel’s lap, trying to get free of the hand on his neck and the other on the small of his back. A cold voice above him froze his movements, however, as Angel whispered, “Struggling will only make it worse. Now stop moving or you won’t get off.”

Spike stopped struggling, nodded and gripped Angel’s pant legs, signaling that he was ready. Angel obviously took the hint because his hand came down hard on Spike’s exposed backside, creating a red mark, almost instantly. A muffled yelp came from his boy and Angel smiled. He was wondering how long it would take for him to give in this time. Last time, when he actually timed him, it took 144 seconds. This time, he knew would take a lot less than that. Bringing his hand down again brought another yelp. “Do you *smack* know *smack* why *smack* I’m *smack* doing this? *whack*” Angel asked.

Spike nodded, even as he rocked his hips up into the next smack and Angel chuckled. He’d known for a while that his boy was aroused so now it was time to really play. After the next hard smack, Angel soothed the reddened skin under his hand, stroking and kneading it softly. In a tear roughened voice, Spike whispered incoherently, “What…Why…”

Angel whispered soothingly, “Shh, Childe.” Continuing to stroke his Childe’s skin, Angel smiled, waiting for the sound that signaled he was done with his lesson. And it took another thirty seconds for it to be heard.

A small choked off whimper escaped Spike and he whispered, “I’m sorry, Sire. Please forgive me.” He was still out of it with lust and pain and Angel knew it. Now was the time to get out of the game.

“Stand up, Childe,” Angel said softly and a wincing Spike listened. Angel pulled his naked boy into his arms, holding him close and smiling. “You know why I did that, right, love?”

Spike nodded against his chest, sniffling. “Because you’re my Sire,” he said, as if from memory.

Angel shook his head. “No, love. Because I was worried. I was coming home and heard that god awful bang and I ran. I ran so fast. I thought that you’d gotten hurt or worse. I came home and you weren’t hurt. Granted, we now have to get a new washer, but those can be replaced,” he said softly.

Angel dropped to his knees on the floor, pulling on the back of Spike’s so he dropped onto his lap, yelping slightly. “Shh, baby,” Angel cooed.

Spike buried his face in Angel’s neck and nodded, seeming overwhelmed. The man that held him always was able to reduce him to this. Always. “It hurts, Daddy,” he whispered hoarsely.

Angel gently laid him onto his back and smiled, “I know, baby, I know. Let me make it better.”

Spike nodded and that was all the encouragement that Angel needed. They came together slowly, Spike stripping off Angel’s clothes and kissing every inch of pale skin revealed to him. Angel leaned down, gently capturing his little blond lover’s lips with his own, slowly opening them and slipping inside. As their tongues rolled and caressed one another, Angel prepared Spike for what he was going to do. Soon, the brunet knew Spike was ready when he whimpered, rocking back against the fingers inside him and saying softly, “Please, love, please.”

Angel nodded. He’d been driving his boy insane slowly, stroking him to life, softly kissing his neck, making love to him slowly. Taking Spike’s thighs into his hands, he wrapped them about his waist and slowly eased inside. Spike arched his head back, groaning as he was finally filled and Angel started as slow a pace as he could, considering he’d been holding back the whole time he’d punished his boy. Keeping his slow pace, Angel kept softly thrusting and soon Spike was again at his peak, his arms flying out above his head to grasp onto the bench leg next to his head, a low pitched keening rising from his throat.

“Spike…” Angel gasped softly, even as his thrusts sped up and Spike rocked with him, matching his pace before his world exploded in a mass of Technicolor stars.

Crying out his Sire’s name on a choked off sob, Spike broke the bench because he clenched it so hard even as his channel was flooded with the cold seed of his lover. “I love you, Angel,” he whispered.

Angel looked down at him in wonder. Only a few times had his boy ever said that and they were few and far between. “I love you, too, Spike,” he said just as softly. Their mouths connected slowly and a thought occurred to Angel. “Oh, great. Now we have to buy a new bench,” he groaned.

“Well, it _was_ a good idea…” Spike said flippantly, earning him a cuff around the ear.

 **_The End_ **


End file.
